


Growing Closer

by Argent_Vulpine



Series: Seteth Birthday Bash 2020 [5]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Confessions of a different sort, F/M, Flayn was not subtle, Found Family, Lettuce Fam, Look if you haven't played AT LEAST Verdant Wind I don't know what to tell you, Mild Paralogue Spoilers, Seteth Birthday Bash (Fire Emblem), Seteth Birthday Bash 2020, Seteth tried, Sharing secrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:08:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28309506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Argent_Vulpine/pseuds/Argent_Vulpine
Summary: Seteth is predictably nervous because he's about to tell Byleth - now Archbishop - a Very Important Secret, and he just isn't sure how she's going to take it.
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth & Seteth, My Unit | Byleth/Seteth
Series: Seteth Birthday Bash 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2066490
Comments: 4
Kudos: 35
Collections: Seteth Birthday Bash 2020





	Growing Closer

**Author's Note:**

> Day 5: Family

Despite the rather abrupt start to their relationship, Seteth knew there was a war on, and that Byleth would be called to lead. She was a tactical genius, after all, and despite the presence of others who were nearly as competent as she, she remained the premier general of the armies in the war against the Adrestian Empire. As such, he had insisted that they keep their relationship… not necessarily a secret, but certainly more restricted.

They took moments together when they could, but she was busy being both general and Archbishop. He did his best to help whenever he could, be it on the field or - more commonly - at the monastery, dealing with paperwork for the church, while still maintaining the search for Rhea. He had strongly suspected that she was being held in Enbarr, and when finally the day came to rescue her, it was of little surprise how she had been kept, though his heart ached for her.

It was only after she had been returned to them that he discovered the truth of Byleth’s existence. He had suspected for quite some time that Rhea had done something to the professor; even had Byleth not told him of the lack of heartbeat, he would eventually have discovered it on his own, he was certain. And when the truth came to light, the puzzle pieces slotting together, he knew that Rhea had done something terribly, terribly wrong.

He had missed Sothis, too, but it was not worth sacrificing the life of another to return her to them. That Byleth carried Sothis’ heart in her chest, her crest pulsing in her blood, and the goddess’ spine in her hands for battle was a cacophony of macabre machinations by the goddess’ own daughter. He wondered, too, if Byleth had suspected at least the origin of the Sword of the Creator, for she rarely wielded it unless she felt there was a great need, and even then he could see her lips twisting in distaste.

She was like family to him. In more ways than one. Even Flayn had taken to her as more than just the professor. She treated her like a sister, or perhaps something a little more. Not quite mother, but not… not a mother, either.

And still, by the time the war against the empire had ended, he had not yet told her the truth about himself or Flayn. Oh, she knew that he was really Flayn’s father; that had happened long ago, before the war. Before her fall.

No, it was time to let her know the truth.

Rhea had left for Zanado, a self-imposed exile perhaps as penance for the sin she had committed upon Byleth, and the knowledge that her mother was truly gone, merged with the professor to save her. He knew that she had revealed herself to be Seiros to Byleth, that much he had been told before she had departed. But she had left the decision to him what he would tell the new Archbishop.

He paced in the main room of her - their? - suite, hands clasped behind his back and brow furrowed in thought as he awaited Byleth’s arrival. She’d had some things to see to, documents regarding Fódlan’s future alongside that of the church itself.

Reform was coming, and while he didn’t disagree with much of it, he wondered if perhaps they weren’t moving too quickly…

The door creaked open, allowing Byleth to slip into the room, puffing out an audible sigh as she removed the ornate headdress of her station and set it down on a nearby table. Gently, he noticed, though he could tell she rather wanted to throw it across the room instead.

“Oh, Seteth, you’re here already,” she said, eyes widening slightly in surprise before a small smile bloomed on her face.

“I found that I could not wait,” he replied, moving to meet her as she approached and wrapping her into a tight hug. He rested his chin atop her head, eyes closing and enjoying how she fit against him, small and warm.

“Excited?” she asked, her ear pressed against his chest and listening to his heartbeat. “Or nervous?”

“Perhaps a bit of both.” He sighed, steeling himself, and pulled away. “There is something I… feel that I must tell you. I had wished to before, however…”

“There wasn’t a lot of time during the war for complicated conversations.” She nodded understanding, lifting on her toes to press a soft kiss to his lips. “I can’t imagine there would be much that you could say that would surprise me, though,” she added with a small grin.

“Ah, well… there may yet be.” He coughed slightly, clearing his throat, and looked more nervous than he had since their first night together.

She lifted an eyebrow, curious and waiting.

Seteth never fidgeted… except for right now, when he was unsure how to really begin. “You are aware that Rhea is, in fact, Saint Seiros,” he finally began, straightening up as if it could shield him from what he was about to reveal.

She nodded, gesturing for him to continue, though nothing in her features changed to give away her thoughts.

“Rhea - Seiros - is not… the only one who remains. Seteth is not the name I have always gone by, nor is Flayn her true name. I am-”

“Cichol. And she’s Cethleann. I know, Seteth,” she interrupted, sparing him and reaching up to press a hand to his cheek, her thumb gently stroking his skin. “I suspected something was amiss even before the war, but it wasn’t until our run-in with Macuil that I knew for certain.”

He blinked, startled, lips parted in shock before he finally found his voice again. “What… how… how did you know?”

She gave a soft snort, pressing a quick kiss to his other cheek before stepping away to remove the Archbishop’s gown he knew she disliked so much. “Flayn wasn’t the most subtle, to be honest, even before she joined my class. She’d made comments about her childhood being ‘so long ago’. Her manner of speech is even more stilted than yours. Your birthdays align with those of the saints, and you carry their crests.” She gave him a mock glare, shaking her head. “I’m not a master tactician for nothing, Seteth. But I suspected you had reasons for keeping it quiet.”

There was a pause, and then she shook her head, laughing softly. “I might not have put the entire puzzle together, except that when you and Flayn joined us on our little expedition to that oasis… well. Macuil was not exactly quiet, and even though Flayn kept shushing him, some of the things I heard him say to you and to her settled it all for me.”

She glanced over her shoulder at him in the middle of tugging off the overdress. “Were you concerned that I would take it poorly?” she asked, curious.

He seemed to deflate in his relief, striding over to her and helping her to remove the offending garments. “It had crossed my mind that you might not look kindly on it, yes.”

“Hm.” Overdress removed, she turned to face him, cupping his face between her hands. “Seteth, I had a goddess in my head nattering on at me for almost my entire time as a professor. Before that, I spent most of my life not remembering a great deal of things, except for fighting and staying alive. If it weren’t for my father’s journal, I wouldn’t even know my real birthday, much less birth year. I know that you weren’t here for what Rhea did, and I know that you didn’t approve of it once you found out, but it was far too late to reverse it.” She smiled wryly. “Well, not without killing me, I suppose.” 

She took a deep breath, catching his gaze and holding it. “I love you. I want to be with you. The little matter of you being Saint Cichol doesn’t change any of that for me.”

It took a moment before her words hit him, and he found himself breaking into a broad smile, crushing her to him in a firm hug, pressing kisses wherever he could reach. Only when the tension fully drained did he step back, attempting to smooth down his coat and her hair, returning some sense of decorum. “I… yes. I hope you know how much I care for you, too, Byleth.”

“Seteth,” she said, giving him a pointed gaze. “You can just say it, you know.”

“… I love you.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead, huffing out a soft sigh. “I have loved you for quite some time. Of course I was going to be… concerned.”

There was a long pause, and then he pulled back, brows furrowing as he considered something she’d said. “How did you know that was Macuil? … and what did he say?”

Laughing, she pulled away and explained everything she’d heard, down to Flayn shushing the great beast and calling him ‘uncle’.


End file.
